


Saccharine

by Grimmseye



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Explicit and Enthusiastic Consent, Knotting, M/M, Monster Kravitz, Monster sex, Partial Mind Alteration, Rough And Tender Sex, Semi-Eldritch Kravitz, Size Difference, What you might expect happens when you want to bang an eldritch horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-14 20:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14144391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmseye/pseuds/Grimmseye
Summary: “I’m being serious, doll.” Taako tips his head up against Kravitz’s shoulder. “I mean, if you don’t wanna then that’s the end of that. But I am saying that if you’ve maybe got some moreprimal urgesgoing on when you go all hellmurder beastmode, Taako’s down.”Their gazes meet for a moment, warm water streaming between their bodies. There’s something in Kravitz’s eyes he doesn’t fully recognize, wary and uncertain and maybe a little bithungry.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Griffin McElroy: Death is actually a handsome man  
> Me: Mmmmm what if Big Monster
> 
> (This chapter is pretty much establishing how this comes about and resolving the consent issues that come with wanting to get down and dirty with the monstrous incarnation of death.)

Meeting Death is strangely anticlimactic after the fact. Like, he’s hot, he’s got a cool scythe, and his face is sometimes just a skull. Pretty dope, Taako’ll give him that. Nothing exactly  _ mind-blowing _ , though. Taako’s not experiencing any revelations about his existence, he doesn’t fall to his knees in reverence or suddenly become aware of his size in the universe. They barter with a loaded deck and walk away with little more than a warning. 

That’s Death. That’s Kravitz.  _ Drop-dead  _ gorgeous and a bit of a dork, who stutters out an offer for a second date and gets flustered when Taako kisses him on the cheek. He knows this because his cloak is a practical moodring, the feathers that adorn him puffing up and out like a startled bird's. 

It’s  _ cute. Death  _ is  _ cute.  _

It means that dating Kravitz is like dating any normal person would be — a person cursed with absolutely terrible circulation, but. Hey, when you’ve seen the shit Taako’s seen, having a man with  _ cold hands  _ really doesn’t even register.

Then he  _ sees  _ Kravitz. 

His fiance wears several masks. A crystalline vessel, a skeleton, a raven, a half-drow man. He swaps them out as needed, for work and for play, and it’s long since become mundane to see Kravitz’s skull shimmering beneath his skin on a bad day. 

There’s something that lies underneath those. And staring at it, on his back, the taste of metal upon his tongue, Taako remembers that Kravitz has been Death for a long, long time. 

His feathered body blots out the moon. He pants, hissing breaths that make his shoulders rise, his chest swell. A breeze ruffles his ragged plumage, feathers bent out of place, bristling with lingering violence. 

Taako drags in a breath, cold and aching in his lungs. It seeps to his ribs and lingers in his marrow. There’s a sting in his belly — it burned at one point. He can still feel the drip of blood, silken down his skin. 

Bodies are strewn about: empty vessels, their souls now banished to the stockade. Kravitz’s scythe makes for clean kills, a cut down the chest or across the throat or through the abdomen. The carcasses on the ground have been torn apart. 

When Kravitz stirs, Taako hears it, the rustle of feathers grating in his ears, his heart swollen and pounding.  _ “Taako,”  _ he rasps. His voice is a song. There’s blood on Taako’s tongue, tasting sweet. 

Kravitz lurches towards him, shadow darkening over Taako, wrapping him in a soothing chill. A gnarled, scale-laden hand emerges from a curtain of feathers. He hisses, “ _ You’re hurt.” _

Is he?

Everything aches. 

He shudders, frozen, drawn to that hand but perfectly still. The feathers flare. Taako sees teeth, needlepoints. Hears the crunch of bone into powder,  _ “They _ **_hurt_ ** _ you.” _

He can feel the particles of dust in his lungs. Then he is reaching, sees but does not feel his body move to grasp Kravitz’s fingers. Talons curl around his hand, engulfing it as Kravitz descends. 

Taako is pulled, trembling, into a bed of feathers. They’re darker than ink. Navy blue glistens behind his eyes. He inhales, breathes in stale stardust as the world spins twice around and he falls.

  
  
  
  


He comes to in his bed. Sweat coats his forehead, loose hairs plastered to his skin. Eyes blink, focusing, a breath drawing slow into his lungs. Clean air, chest rising and easing as he lets it out. 

There’s a glass of water at his bedside, glistening with condensation. Suddenly parched, Taako rolls over to grasp it, the sheets clinging to his damp skin. He could moan with the relief of soothing his dry throat.

Begs the question of who put the glass there. It'd been a good idea; Taako feels like he's just been wrung out of a fever. Maybe Lup or Barry, if he’s been sick, or Kravitz — 

He’s crossed frequencies over his stone of farspeech before. Voices knitting in and out of each other, hovering at a perfect overlay before one fizzled into static again — that’s how the memories come to him. Fresh perspiration breaks out over his skin, a shiver wracking his spine. There are just snatches in his brain, always viewed through the peripheral, never dead on, but what he puts together is —

_ feathers and bone and the sky around his ankles _

A breath shudders out of him. Taako smiles, giddy.

—  _ exciting.  _

His legs tremble when he puts his weight onto them. They hold him, though, and when he steps forward, the exhaustion slowly away. 

Kravitz is waiting on the couch. Like a schoolboy awaiting the principal, he sits with his back slouched, shoulders hunched, hands folded in his lap. The moment he hears Taako, though, he’s bolting upright, coming for him in hurried strides. 

And then he stops. Well out of arm’s reach, Kravitz freezes, draws himself up with a breath, and then sags. “Taako,” he murmurs. There’s something in his voice that Taako doesn’t like. “I… how are you feeling?”

Taako makes a show of stretching his arms over his head, entire body pulled into an arc. “Better by the second,” he declares, a yawn prying his jaws open. He clacks his teeth shut. “Bit sticky, though, probs gonna hop in the shower. Is that just gonna happen when you go all beast mode on those suckers? Cause gonna be real, I feel somewhere between a hangover and the morning after a  _ thorough  _ dicking.”

He's assuming that's what this is. He's met gods before, and they've been nothing special, but now he wonders if maybe they'd been holding back. Kravitz is only an emissary, and seeing him like _that,_ a body formed from the deepest crevices of his soul, the raw magic born of the celestial plane, and Taako woke sweat-slicked and addled. 

Kravitz is just. Staring at him. Gawking almost, something which Taako happily accepts from strangers but less so his betrothed. So he lifts his eyebrows until Kravitz snaps out of it, blinking and abashed. “Sorry,” he says, head ducking. “I just. You’re okay?”

“Be better once I’m all washed up, but yeah, my man. Taako’s good.” He can taste magic in the back of his throat, but it doesn't feel  _bad._  It's buzzing, and just on the side of sweet, like sugar water dripped behind his tongue. He twists a lock of hair around a finger, regarding Kravitz a moment longer. Chin down and eyes distant — reaper boy is  _ definitely  _ holding something back  right now.

Taako huffs. He steps forward, closing the frankly ridiculous distance between them to push his fingers up against the underside of Kravitz’s chin. “I can hear you thinking, sweetcheeks. What’s eatin’ ya?" He rolls his shoulders, feels his shirt cling to his back, and wrinkles his nose as he shakes his had. "Actually, hold on a mo', I have __ to shower  _ right now  _ cause th is is _pret-ty_  gross.” 

He lets Kravitz stay silent as he cranks on the water. Lets him gather himself and think as the spray warms, as Taako undresses and Kravitz follows suit. He draws back the curtain, both of them stepping into the shower.  It’s one of the fancy sorts with far more shower-heads than necessary, cause he has money now and Taako deserves some pampering.

“Start talking, babe,” Taako drawls. His fingers skim over the labels of shampoo until he settles on a coconut-scented wash. He’s gonna smell like a goddamn  _ dream. _  Be a bit nicer if Kravitz were the one to work it into his hair. Be nicer if he would touch Taako at all. __ “And, uh, maybe cut out the hands-off approach? I know I said I was gross, but like, don’t deny yourself on my account. I’m all rinsed off and everything.”

Those are apparently the magic words. Kravitz’s hands settle at his waist. Then they slip around, arms wrapped about his stomach. There’s just the slightest sting, Taako glancing down at the pain. There’s a faded line on his belly, red but healthily scabbed. 

Right. Necromancers. Knives. Bird demon fiance.

The sense of losing himself, Kravitz the only thing keeping him anchored. Mind and body and soul wrapped up in shadows, the dragging of whispers in the shells of his ears, inaudible. Somehow he hadn't been afraid. 

“I was worried I’d hurt you,” Kravitz murmurs. It’s nearly lost to the clatter of water. 

Taako chews on that for a moment. Says, “Babe, I’m pretty sure you hurt that _guys_ that hurt _me_. It was kind of gruesome, so, uh, actually _‘pretty sure’_  is gonna get bumped up to _‘absolutely certain.’_ ”

There’s a breath of  a laugh against his neck. It sobers too quickly. “Not physically,” Kravitz says. “I’m not… that was a loss of control there. It was irresponsible of me to take that form in front of you.”

“Cause of the, uh…” He gropes for a good word. “Definitely were giving off some kind of vibes. Like, ancient terror beyond mortal comprehension? But more lowkey.”

Kravitz’s arms had tightened. They ease after a beat, several more stretching out without even a murmur. When he does speak, it’s quiet: “The last thing I want to do is scare you.”

Taako can’t help but bark out a laugh. “No, darling, I  _ promise  _ that was one of the last things on the list.”  _ On  _ the list, sure. But it was pretty low. “I mean, yeah, definitely got a bit disconnected there. Real wibbly all up in my headspace. But, uh. It was kind of hot.” 

Taako knows he doesn’t have a record for being attracted to anything  _ good for him.  _ He’s seen Kravitz at work before, had to conceal a hard-on watching it — a feat that's not exactly easy in a skirt. He can't be blamed; there’s just something freakily alluring about his fiance cutting a lich down in one swipe. So yeah, he's gonna be a little bit turned on when Kravitz turns into a semi-godly horror. He could  _ feel  _ it, too, could sense what kind of power he wielded. It was unearthly, twisted his guts and made him shake with want. 

“...Hot,” Kravitz repeats. 

Taako shrugs. “It’s an acquired taste,” he says, which doesn’t make  _ sense  _ but Kravitz gives a small, incredulous snort into his hair. “I mean, is that like, a possibility?” 

“Is  _ what  _ a possibility?” Kravitz sounds like he doesn’t quite want to know. 

So of course Taako says it anyway. “You know. Getting to the bone zone with demon Krav. You got a dick on that fiendish bod?”

“I don’t…” His voice is aghast. “Taako, don’t joke about that, this is serious.” 

“I’m being serious, doll.” Taako tips his head up against Kravitz’s shoulder. “I mean, if you don’t wanna then that’s the end of that. But I  _ am  _ saying that if you’ve maybe got some more  _ primal urges  _ going on when you go all hellmurder beastmode, Taako’s down.” 

Their gazes meet for a moment, warm water streaming between their bodies. There’s something in Kravitz’s eyes he doesn’t fully recognize, wary and uncertain and maybe a little bit _hungry_. In the red of his irises, Taako sees a flash of what he was before. His breath hitches. 

Kravitz breaks the silence with, “Why don’t we talk about this... a little later? I need some time to think.” 

Taako hums to himself. He turns, slips his arms up around his neck to lay a kiss on his lips. “Hell yeah,” he says. “Though, uh, I will say that just thinking about this? Little more into it than I realized.” His smile turns taunting as he shifts his hips forwards, lets his half-hard length rub over Kravitz’s thigh. 

He watches Kravitz's expression, how his eyelids lower, the slide of his tongue over his bottom lip. “Mm," Kravitz hums, "I suppose you expect me to take care of that?”

“Well  _ I’m  _ not gonna,” he snorts, and sets a hand on Kravitz’s shoulder to press down, heat in his belly as he watches his fiance sink down to his knees.

  
  
  
  
  


Kravitz brings it up over dinner two nights later. Asks for a knife and says, “Also did you still want to have sex when I’m a monster or did you think better of it?”

Taako passes him a clean knife. 

“Nope, that is  _definitely_ still on the table,” Taako says, putting his own utensils down. “You, uh. Is it for you? On. On the table, I mean.” 

“It is,” Kravitz says, but the words come out slow. He stares down at the table, pausing his meal as he stares down at his knees. “But I just. I’m not, not really sure if you realize what you’re getting into here.  _ That  _ is a reflection of… Well, of  _ what  _ I am. You have  _ this  _ me, the body and mind from my mortal life.” He gestures to himself. “And my reaper form, as a servant of the Raven Queen and, technically, a member of the undead.” 

Taako nods. “You don’t gotta say technically, pretty sure undead means undead. It’s chill, all cops break their own laws.”

He makes a face at Taako. Clears his throat and says, “But.  _ That.  _ That is… I suppose something between a celestial and a fiend. It…  _ I  _ lack full control, I’m much stronger but more instinctual and frankly, Taako, I’m concerned about the  _ size…”  _ He looks a bit more embarrassed there, his brief tirade tapering off into quiet. 

Taako bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says, nodding. His belly feels tight. “Gonna, uh, gonna be real with you here.  _ None of that  _ is really turning me off, my guy.” 

“You say that now,” Kravitz says, “but what if you change your mind, or I — I do something you don’t like, or  _ scare  _ you —” 

Taako takes his hand. It’s a maneuver that forces him to lean across the table, nearly sticking his elbow in the butter, but Kravitz falls silent, meeting his eyes. “Can’t stress this enough. If  _ you  _ don’t want this, we’re not doing it, hands off, game over. But I’ve got a little something-something that I think will solve the problems you’re laying out. Finish up dinner, darling, and then let ol’ Taako blow your mind.” He flashes him his best grin, the one that says he has a plan that's sure to change the game.

It does the trick. Kravitz relaxes, puffing out a laugh. “Of course. I suppose we’ll have to see what you’ve come up with.” 

What he’s come up with is just a bracelet. He presents it to Kravitz, a nice little silver chain that fits around Taako's wrist. “This,” he says, all drama and flair, “is a little trinket Lup and I whipped up. Activates at will. The second I want it to, it’ll... _Well._ Lemme show you. Suppose I should apologize in advance, so, uh, sorry.”

Kravitz’s eyebrows raise, but he inclines his head, permission given. It only takes a thought from Taako for the magic to pulse out, pure radiant energy that makes Kravitz flinch and draw back, the feathers of his cloak bristling a protest. 

Taako withdraws his magic before any damage can be done, leaving Kravitz rattled but unharmed. He spreads his hands, wiggling them as he beams. “There you have it! If something goes wrong — and nothing’s gonna,” Taako interrupts himself to assure him. “But  _ if  _ it does, if I get a little freaked and wanna call things off, this is pretty much an auto-stop.”

Kravitz steadies himself, shaking off the jolt. “That… that should do it,” he laughs. His eyes are admiring, silent praise that Taako basks in. And finally, he can see that last little wall of concern and reluctance break down.

And that’s the last step. It settles in Taako’s brain, then, that this is something that will happen. It makes him as giddy as it does anxious, toes curling in his boots at just the  _thought._

He remembers the saccharine flavor of decay, heady on his tongue when he breathed in midnight down. When his lips meet Kravitz’s, he thinks he finds a hint of it, cups his jaw and kisses him deep, scrapes nails across his skin, eager for when he would feel the catch of minute feathers beneath them instead.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not something that happens immediately. 

They talked. They worked out the kinks, set in a failsafe, looked each other in the eyes and agreed in no uncertain terms. But it doesn’t just  _ happen.  _ Kravitz doesn’t sprout feathers and loom over him and drag Taako to bed. They kiss, and they go to sleep, and Kravitz goes to work in the morning, and when he comes back it doesn’t happen  _ then,  _ either. 

They’re waiting for the right time, maybe. When the mood is shaded dark and the curtains are drawn and they both want something different. Something so new and unfamiliar it makes anticipation taste close to fear, nerves jumping with sickly excitement. 

They wait. 

Then one day, Barry comes home instead of Kravitz, prefacing his arrival with, “Taako, Kravitz is hurt, but he’s okay.”

And honestly? Taako has the best brother-in-law. His panic dies within the same second it flared, the knowledge of  _ he’s okay  _ keeping his heart quick but steady in his chest. So he nods, and lets Barry explain. 

Being a reaper has become more… difficult, since Fisher broadcast their stories. A sudden upheaval in forbidden magics immediately followed, the presence of two liches as the world’s saviors providing motivation and justification to follow in their footsteps. For every two petty necromancers Kravitz has to scare back onto the lawful path, there’s a real one already damning themself to the stockade. And out of _them_ there are deeper threats yet. More liches. More ritual sacrifice. More people becoming aware that there is something to  _ stop  _ them when they cross the Raven Queen’s ire. More people preparing for that threat.

Hiring Lup and Barry wasn’t just to provide a solution. It was a necessity. Because sometimes people get smart when they start dealing with death, and sometimes they learn how to truly ward it away.  Sometimes they leave his fiance’s soul torn, retreating into the Raven Queen’s court to rest until it has healed again. 

And that’s where Taako’s feet settle, heeled shoes on cold, glossy tile as he steps through the rift Barry opened for him. 

If it were Lup, she would insist on coming with him. Barry listens when he waves him away, though, just gives him a wavering smile and a wave as the rift stitches up between them. 

He’s been here all of one time, on the date of his siblings’ indoctrination. The Raven Queen sticks to her aesthetic quite well: darkness and elegance make up the entirety of her realm. The tiles are a matte black, pillars and archways lining the corridor in which he stands. There are small windows cut out between each segment, allowing in a cool breeze from the garden of monkshood outside. 

He knows this realm to be in perpetual twilight. The purple hue of the sky bathes his path as he makes his way down, uncertain where he’s headed but knowing he’ll find his way somehow. 

He makes it all of five steps before he feels _Her_ presence. It’s a drag of talons over his mind, making his skin feel tight,  _ crawling  _ with a frigid threat. 

Taako lets his heart project  _ Kravitz  _ and  _ love  _ and  _ fear  _ and immediately the grip releases. Instead there is a brush of feathers, downy, irate and amused and indulgent. When Taako begins to move, he finds his feet know the way. In fact, it’s more like he blacks out, a flutter of wings in his ears and when they settle, he’s standing outside a door. It’s carved ebony, like the rest of this pocket of a world, with a golden knocker set within a raven’s beak. 

Taako knocks. Three times, a pause after the first and the next two in quick succession. The moment he releases the metal, the door creaks open. 

It’s almost certainly Kravitz’s room. It is not a  _ bedroom  _ in any orthodox sense. There is a wide, wide window, giving view to a garden of foxglove blooms. Hooks adorn the walls, and from them hang Kravitz's suits, his feathered cloak. Trinkets, too: jewelry in silver and gold, decorated with every gemstone that could be named. He spots a malachite pendant and ruby-inlaid earrings and a sapphire bracelet and he thinks of how he’d love to dress Kravitz up in all these gorgeous, shining things. 

He wonders where he  _ got  _ them, up until he spots a black-diamond circlet and nearly barks out a laugh.  _ That  _ had sat atop the head of a necromancer Taako watched him reap, one who had been refusing to return the dead after she raised them. Well, a kleptic streak wasn’t anything he could fault. 

Staring at all that laid  _ around  _ the room, Taako nearly fails to see what was directly in his midst. At the center, upon the floor, there is what can only be described as a nest. It’s layers upon layers of material: down feathers and satin and silk and velvet, a quilt he knew to be elvenmade, a blanket woven from fibers he’d never seen before, all neatly layered and wound to form this mass. And within it is Kravitz. 

Taako’s brain goes to white noise. 

Feathers rise slowly, lifting, bristling outwards, and then drop. There’s an arm — a wing — a —

There’s an arm draped around where his head would be, long feathers streaking out from the limb and fanning across the nest. There’s something glossy, a beak or talons or eyes shining in the dim light that filters through the window. 

“Kravitz?” He says. It’s a crackle of sound. 

The shape moves, stirring. A head lifts. He sees a beak, then two, then three, one where a mouth should be and two upon the neck, one with serrated teeth and the other a scaled tongue. 

_ “Taako?” _ Rasps the first beak. The sound of feathers rustling, dragging against each other, it fills the room, a flock taking wing all around him and stirring his vision with spots of darkness.  _ “You shouldn’t be here.”  _

There’s an instinct that every living thing will feel: when something comes to extinguish the flame of life, you will  _ fight.  _ You will run, and thrash, and claw, and scream, the damage does not matter so long as that spark remains. Taako feels the presence of Death shrouding him, coaxing him forward, and his body winds taut as it prepares to bolt like a deer that spotted the wolf. 

Then he takes a step forward. And another, pushing through that haze and then beyond. His toes catch the edge of the nest and he falls, collapsing into a bed of feathers. 

For a long moment, Taako only breathes in the musk of hemlock. His limbs tremble. It takes time for him to recover his voice, finding it nestled between his ribs and his swollen heart before he says, “Figured I should visit my beau when he’s out sick. Little – little TLC, Taako’s Loving Care, you feel?” 

He feels Kravitz’s body jerk with laughter. Air huffs from three gaping beaks, they batter him and make his head spin. A hand cups his jaw, scale-laden, the tips of sharp talons pricking into his cheek — 

There are wings, many wings, two and four and six, Kravitz is a seraphim in its next, cover his eyes, his body, the feathers sprout from his skin like needles that bloom into delicate blades. 

He cups Taako’s cheek, hand calloused and cool, and kisses him. 

Soft lips. He sees a face, draped in feathers down to the nose. It warps, vision blurring, and Taako shuts his eyes against the wave of dizziness that takes him. 

Kravitz kisses the sickness away. His touch soothes what the sight of him brought on, easier to _feel_ than to  _see_ and  _comprehend._ It's a delicate press, care in the talons that comb through his hair, the fingers that stroke over his cheek. 

It doesn't remain so gentle. A palm presses flat against his skin, a smooth rub of scales, draws him closer as the lips press harder, first urging and then demanding, needlepoints scraping over his lip that make him gasp. 

His fingers tighten as Kravitz kisses him, deep and slow and making his spine shutter at the drag of a too-long tongue. He tastes something sweet, a shadow of pomegranate prickling over the inside of his mouth as he grasps at the stems of feathers. A noise rolls out from his chest, high and shaking as Kravitz kisses him breathless. 

When he breaks off, Taako is panting, tongue chilled by the air he pulls into his mouth. His chest is tight, his head swimming. He can't get enough air and it leaves him feeling light, a hair separate from his skin and buzzing in between. 

There's the slide of a chitinous beak over his throat, head tilting instinctively back and  _away,_ only exposing himself instead. Kravitz's body erupts into a rumle, a  _purr,_ and he gasps as heat puffs over his frigid skin. The hands that hold him clutch tighter, draw him closer, one around his back and the other cradling his skull. 

Taako squirms in his hold, grasping,  _"Kravitz."_ His legs have fallen around — his sides, his hips,  _something,_ they squeeze around Kravitz's form and he sucks in another, shaking breath. 

His cock has filled, digging into Kravitz's form from under his clothes, the sensation of being so small, being so completely at Kravitz's mercy — it leaves heat dripping thick into his belly. Taako cants his hips, grinding into Kravitz at the feeling of a mouth pressing to his throat. It's a layered sensation. There's the glide of a tongue, lips closing to suck at his skin until it aches. Over that, too, a smooth beak is nestled beneath his chin, rubbing over his jaw. 

Taako's eyes lift open. The moment his gaze falls upon Kravitz, nausea wracks him again. They squeeze shut, a groan pushed from him. 

Kravitz goes still. He feels feathers brush his face, the point of a beak guiding a lock of hair out of his eyes. A hand — a wing, a  _wing_ cradles his face, Kravitz's concern a warble that reverberates through Taako's ribcage. 

His hand trembles as he strokes it through a muddle of curled hair and feathers, slides down to skim bare bone. "It's cool," he assures him, voice high and doubled over itself, an echo pulsing back against his teeth. "Don't — don't — don't worry, handsome, it's just a bad idea to look Death in the face."

He laughs, pleased to feel the shudder of Kravitz's amusment in turn. Then he moans as they shift, Kravitz jerking Taako's hips against him as he leans down to latch his mouth onto the junction of his neck. "Eager, huh?" He breathes, slow, bringing his arms around him. Wings enfold him, heavy around his body. Shadows hug his flesh, both claustrophobic and comforting. 

Kravitz is nothing but darkness. It clings to his fingers, thickened smoke, a miasma that engulfs him. Then feathers around him, taloned hands rocking his hips to draw gasps from his throat. Two at his waist, one forcing his chin up to be kissed, his mouth loose and pliant. 

Teeth catch his lip, blood drawn in a sting. There's a  _shudder_ from Kravitz, and then hands cupping his jaw as a tongue laves greedily over his bleeding lip. 

Taako moans, a sound that only sharpens when talons pull his head back by his hair. Teeth pierce his skin, sharp and hungry, and then again, and again, until his neck is hot and bloodied and marred, hips jerking at every pass of a tongue over his wounds. 

There's nothing to hold onto, just wisps of feathers that he claws at. Kravitz keeps leaning further into him, keeps pulling him closer until he's nearly hanging over the floor, over the side of his nest. 

He can feel Kravitz's shadow, how it enshrouds his very being. There's pleasure and heat and love and  _mine,_ and Taako trembles. He wants him to take it. He wants to give it to him, everything he wants, all of him. 

His neck chills under Kravitz's attention, magic pushed into his flesh as his love tastes him from his veins. The skin knits back together, the last traces of his essence stolen from his flesh as Kravitz groans his satisfaction. 

He's left sweaty and reeling, his breath coming in heavy pants. Starlight is swimming in his vision as he catches two full-moon eyes. Blink, and there are six, blood-red under a layer of wilting plumage. Lights wink in the air around them, settling like embers on his skin. He gusts out a breath to watch them spin in the air and catch in the threads of feathers. 

Taako shuts his eyes again before the lights make his head pound, loosing himself to sensation again. 

His back splays out on  _soft_ and  _solid,_ startlingly concrete where Kravitz is ephemeral beneath his hands. Talons catch the hem of his shirt, drawing it up to expose him. Shivers burst over his skin, prickles of hot and cold dancing like pins and needles. A palm smooths back down, the catch of scales making his back arch as they run over his sternum, his belly, down to the band of his skirt. 

As he peels it away, his talons nudge over Taako's cock. The flash of  _fear_ turns to arousal, a whimper in his throat as he's held in such a dangerous caress. His thighs quiver with the effort to stay still. There's precum drooling down his length. 

Kravitz's chirr echoes in his skull, marrow shaking in bones, the rattle in the throat of a crow. He answers with a whine, heels digging down into the next, fighting the urge to buck and squirm. Breath catches in his throat as the smooth curve of a claw runs over his tip, dragging the wetness down his cock. 

_"Kravitz,"_ he rasps. There are words in his throat that decay and ferment into sugar and ichor, senseless, dripping from his lips as need. 

Kravitz's gaze is a physical presence freezing over his skin. His song grates in the air, a fresh cawing of  _beauty_ and  _love_ and  _need_ and  _mine_ and  _mine_ and  _Mine._ Like he's snagged Taako's soul on the hook of his beak, he feels Kravitz undo him, catches the loose string and pulling him apart. 

Warm hands stroke over his sides, fingers calloused from violin strings. The nails graze his skin as hands curl around him, roll him over and onto his belly. They skim over his ass, down his thighs, Taako giving a breath as his fingers curl in the featherdown that pads the nest. 

Nerves strike him when his legs are coaxed open. He leans his forehead into his arms, jaws open to taste the bitterness of foxglove petals lining his mouth. 

Wetness slicks up the length of his thigh and over his hole. Taako gasps as he feels a tendril flex against him, slow and insistent until it pushes inside. His fingers tighten, a cry wrenching out of him. It  _squirms,_ working itself deeper and him  _open,_ thickening as more and more of it sinks inside. 

He cries out against his arms, one folded around his head to cutch at his own hair. It strangles into another gasp as he's pulled back, the tendril sliding that much deeper into him. It flexes, rolls up against his insides to stroke a spot that makes his vision burst white behind closed eyelids. 

His nails dig into his scalp, toes curling, legs shaking as he wails through his orgasm. The tendril pushes him through it, until he's spent and panting, giving a high-pitched sound when it slips out of him. He feels Kravitz's pleasure, the purring of  _loveminemine_ seizing him tight with no intent to let go. 

Taako gives himself away. He's one half of a whole, whimpering and empty and unfulfilled, head spinning as he sucks onyx-flavored breath into his lungs. 

The world flips. He's pulled into feathers, weaving fingers tight within them. Wings hug his hips, shroud his head, four of them and then the paws that hold him up by hie thighs.

He needs, he  _needs,_ and Taako sobs it in the sound of Kravitz's name. He's empty and incomplete, tries to bury himself in feathers to just get  _closer._ He can feel Kravitz's soul, opalescent blue and soothing and cold, feels the strands linked between them.  A glossy beak smoothes over his jaw, an echoing chirr tickling his ears. Hands lay him prone on his back and he strangles in a breath, "Yes,  _yes."_

He claws at Kravitz's shoulders, at the thin joints of his wings. Need is burnt sugar at the back of his throat, his voice blackened and thick. 

Kravitz is slick and ready against his belly, minute shifts of his hips drawing him back and forth over Taako's skin. A mouth slots over his, swallowing his desparation and licking aconite from his teeth. 

His length is ridged and bulbous at its root, Taako feeling its swell over his belly. It slides, wet, across his skin, catches his own cock in its pass. A groan rises from his throat as Kravitz frots against him, Taako's eyes squeezed so tight that nebulas are bursting behind the lids. When they blink open, glazed over and distant, the stars are clinging in his eyelashes, clumps of dusted bone. 

Kravitz chatters out his own desire, thrusting urgently against him. Taako arches back, his head tipping as he croons his approval. It's a babble of " _Yes"_ and " _Kravitz"_ and " _Please"_ and only silences when he's seized by long-fingered hands. 

He's dragged like a doll, left with his back in the nest and his hips in the air, legs forced open, pulled up against the cock grinding over his hole. It's  _big,_ and Taako's heart skips. He mumbles another, "Please,  _please,"_ then goes quiet again as Kravitz gives him what he's begging for. 

He pushes into Taako just as much as he  _pulls_ him onto his cock, undeniably  _taking_ him,  _claiming_ him. There's a moment of resistance and then Taako crying out as he pushes inside. 

He drags his nails over the soft fabrics of the nest as he whines. Kravitz forces himself deeper, rutting hungrily into him.

Taako can feel every inch shoved into him, eyes stretching open as he gasps. There's a double image of Kravitz over him, one with loose, messy hair, one shrouded in tattered feathers. Four eyes slot open from under waves of dark locks, a beak full of jagged teeth gapes open —

A headache builds at his temples. Taako shuts his eyes.

Kravitz doesn't stop even when he's sunk as deep as he can go, the swollen base of his cock pushing against him with every thrust. He folds over Taako and fucks him, harsh and messy while the elf wails underneath him. He can feel every ridge catching over his prostate, the ache of how impossible deep he's reaching. A hand gropes blindly out, seizing feathers that are withered and soft, quills snapping in his grip.

His other hand claws at his own chest, raking nails down to his stomach, the sting making sweetness burn beneath his tongue. There, he gasps, breath choking off. He can  _feel_ Kravitz. As he rocks himself inside, a bulge swells in his belly. He's so deep — so  _big —_

Taako arches, silent, as his cum spurts over his belly. There's no respite, Kravitz giving a warbling growl as he only fucks him harder. His knot pushes against him, each shove signaled by a whine. Drool runs from the corner of Taako's mouth, slack from overstimulation. 

Kravitz pushes until he gives, the knot swallowed into him, stretched open and so so full. Taako's eyes roll to see flickering light, his cock giving a last pulse that leaves heat dribbling down his length. More is filling him, Kravitz shaking and crooning as he cums. 

Taako's chest heaves. Sweat glistens over his body, breath stolen greedily into his lungs. He can catch the musk of yew in Kravitz's feathers. 

His eyes blink open, sluggish, and the dark petals of dahlias close over his vision. 

 

 

 

 

He wakes up dizzy. It's blessedly dark when he opens his eyes, just the dim glow of moonstone to illuminate the lair. A groan pushes into the air, Taako thinking to move but finding his body too weak. 

Immediately, there's a shuffle. Kravitz dips into his vision, reaching for him. The moment his hand brushes him, cool against his burning cheek, Taako feels better. Tired, but not  _sick._

"Get over here, I need my ice pack." Taako tugs him closer, Kravitz willingly sinking down so he can snuggle up against him. 

"How are you feeling?" Kravitz asks. 

Taako gives a laugh. "I think you fucked me stupid, kemosabe." He grins, and Kravitz gives a nervous-sounding chuckle in return. Sobering, he adds, "In all seriousness: I'm a little sore, little sticky, but holy  _fuck_ that was good." 

He sighs, stretching out before he relaxes against Kravitz, a content smile on his lips. "How about you, handsome?"

"Honestly?" Kravitz's fingers tease his hair apart. They fold the pieces over each other, back and forth, weaving a braid. Preening, almost. "It felt... it was good, Taako. It felt like you were mine." 

A weight nestles into his hair, Kravitz nuzzling him. Taako leans back into it, lazy joy on his face. "Mmmm. Always have been but I get what you mean." That possessive streak had been... exhilarating. 

Kravitz pauses in his work, head ducking down to press an affectionate kiss to his jaw. "Probably shouldn't do that too often," he murmurs. 

Taako hums his agreement. "Just a special treat?" 

Kravitz huffs, a laugh, says, "You are something else, Taako." The smile is in his voice though, and the kiss tastes sweet. 


End file.
